Hogwarts Book 1: Lifeless
by Stelvani
Summary: Phillip Ellis learns he is a wizard. But is that really a good thing? After he begins to attend Hogwarts, he learns more about his family, and how they had a connection with the most evil wizard known...
1. Prologue: Ellis

Hogwarts, Book 1: Lifeless

by: Stelvani

Disclaimer: Most characters in this story were created by me, but many of them are used from the original Harry Potter series. This book is based on the school of Hogwarts, and on the entire magical world, which is property of J.K Rowling.

Summary: Book 1 of 7. This story takes place during what would be Harry Potter's first year at Hogwarts. It is about of a group of first years who are headed for Hogwarts for the first time, and they have to not only learn everything about magic, but also about the art of making and breaking friendships, the hardships of school life, and of the mysterious group of evil witches and wizards known as the Death Eaters.

* * *

Prologue: Ellis

Phillip Ellis stared blankly up at the clouds. He lay on his back, resting his head on his hands, spreading out across the side of a hill. There was a slight breeze, coming from the summer air, and it blew his longish brown hair down across his forehead. His light blue eyes sat open, yet he did not concentrate on anything in the sky.

The day was perfect. The weather was brilliant, for a peaceful, quiet day, and it gave Phil a good atmosphere to think. He was thinking about the many times he spent on the very same hill, contemplating his day. But all those times, over the past eleven years, he was smaller, and had less to think about. His thoughts never came to any very serious contemplating, for he led a very simple life.

Phil and his mother and father live in the large sub-urban area, called South Londing, which sits just South of London, England. Nothing out of the ordinary ever happened, the people were always quiet, and the area felt a little too peaceful to Phil. He wanted to be somewhere different, and he wanted to meet some friends.

The streets of South Londing run in parallel and perpendicular rows, and are usually named something along the lines of East Mallary Road or First Spencer Drive. Phillip, whose family lives on East Farthing Drive, has a house the farthest away from anything around. The identical houses, and similar people there, all create a somewhat bland place to live. But the worst part of living in South Londing is the fact that there are no other people his age. No ones he had ever met was near his age, except at school, which essentially meant there was never anything to do.

Phil rose up off of his hands, and sat upright. He looked down the hill and across the sidewalk, at the boring street. He looked up once more, toward the horizon. The sky was getting darker. The blue sky faded to red at the edge of the sky, almost as a warning to Phil that he should head home. He stood up and stretched his arms. He had been at the hill for a few hours.

Phil stepped lightly down the hill, and reached the sidewalk. He looked both ways before crossing the street, even though he knew no cars would be driving around on a Sunday evening.

He walked for about a mile, when he came to his street. He turned to the left, down East Farthing Drive, and strode down to the fifth house. It was a pretty good size house, almost too big for three people. Phil's parents weren't really wealthy, but he was a little better off than most. His house was a brown and white three story building, just like every other house in South Londing.

As Phil walked toward his front yard, he suddenly felt strange. He felt like something was wrong. He stopped walking for a minute, and listened. There didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary. But he felt something.

The sky was much darker now. He barely see down the street, much less anything. He quickly ran as fast as he could down the sidewalk, and turned into his front yard. Suddenly, he saw a huge burst of light from the first floor window. There weren't any noises that he could hear. He ran forward, and just as he reached his front door, he could just make out three figures in the front hallway. One was on the ground. Another was hunched over it. The third figure suddenly rushed in Phil's direction, and he was able to move just in time, as a flailing body of robes came bursting out of the door. Phil lunged aside, and hid behind a bush in his yard. He watched as what was unmistakably a madman ran down his street into the darkness, and was gone. He didn't see what his face looked like, but at that point it didn't matter.

Phil was awestricken. Someone was in their house. Were those two people inside his parents? They had to be. He ran out from the bush, and up the porch stairs. He reached the door, and ran inside. The house was completely dark, except for one light above his head. Below him, his mother lay on the ground. His father kneeling over her body, which seemed utterly lifeless.

_"MUM!!!" _Phil cried out loudly, as he jumped forward to her. _"WHAT HAPPENED?"_

"Phil…Phil…We have to go." His father, Jonathon Ellis, said quietly.

"_WHAT_ IS GOING ON? WHAT HAPPENED?" Phil yelled, turning to his father, staring holes into his eyes.

"Phil, we have to go. We have to take her to the hospital. Its very fatal I think. But she is still breathing."

_"Who was that man ---"_

"Phil, I'll answer everything as best as I can. But right now we have to get her to the hospital." his father said still quietly. He stood up, and walked out of the room, rather quickly. He returned a second later, with a small bowl.

Inside the bowl was a strange silvery powder, that Phil had never seen before.

"Into the living room, we have to hurry." He handed Phil the bowl, as he bent over and lifted his wife off of the floor.

Phil quickly followed his father into the room, over to the fireplace.

"What are we doing?" Phil asked.

"Um. This may seem a bit strange, but do _exactly _what I tell you. I'm going to make you go first." His father reached onto the mantle, and grabbed the matches, carefully holding up Phil's mother, who hung limply from his arms. He handed the matches to Phil. "Light the fireplace. But quickly, we have to hurry."

"I thought you said we were going to the hospital! What are we doing? What if mums _dying?_"

"DO IT!"

Phil quickly pulled out a match, and tried lighting. It caught on fire, and he threw it into the fireplace, where some pieces of paper and wood were already laid out. The flame burned the paper, which lit the wood on fire, quickly creating a small fire.

"Now Phil, take that powder. Take a handful and throw it in. Quickly."

"But---"

_"DO AS I SAY!!!"_

Phil did it. He threw the powder in the fire, and it burst into green flames, much larger than it was. But it didn't give off any heat.

"Now step in there, and say these words, _VERY_ clearly: St. Mungo's Hospital." his father said. Phil's father was growing impatient, and he knew he must be fast.

"WHAT?" Phil turned to his father. "ARE YOU MAD? WHAT IN THE WORLD IS GOING ON!?"

"Move." Phil's father had it. He pushed Phil aside, and bent down into the fireplace, which barely held two people. He was inside of the fire, yet he was not burning up, or screaming. _"Saint Mungo's Hospital!" _the green flames burst higher, and Phil's father was gone.

Phil stood there, in his empty house. It was dark in the room, except for the small fire.

_"What in the world…" _Phil thought he was dreaming. Where was his father? What happened to his mother? What should he do now?

He looked around the room. He felt very panicked.

He turned back to the fireplace…

* * *


	2. Chapter 1: St' Mungo's

Chapter 1: St. Mungo's

Sitting patiently in a very uncomfortable wooden sitting chair, Phil sat in the waiting room in the lobby of St. Mungo's. His father sat next to him. There was an utter silence between the two. Phil had no questions for his father at this point. Only the worry of his mother lingered. She had been brought in to the Healers, the minute she arrived. She obviously was badly injured, for it had been hours of waiting.

Phil had a strange feeling. His mother had been hurt in such a strange way, and he had no idea what had happened from when he got home to this point. And there he sat, in some strange hospital, having arrived by stepping into a fire. The burning thoughts of what might happen to his mother suddenly subsided. It was time for some questions.

"Dad." Phil turned to his father. "Can you explain to me what happened? Who was that man? Why did he attack Mum?"

There was an awkward silence.

"Son…" His father seemed to hesitate. "This may come as quite a shock to you, but, your mother…"

He stopped.

"Yes?"

"Your mother…Well, your mother is a…a witch."

"…A what?" Phil asked, very puzzled. He knew that he must be dreaming. He was asleep on the hill near home, that was it. Only a dream.

"She was born a witch. Her parents were non-witches, but…she was, just…born a witch. I'm not quite sure how it works." His father explained.

"A witch?" Phil was still very confused. "What exactly does that mean?"

"Well, that means that she can, well, she can do magic. She went to a magic-learning school when she was younger. Something like that. She got a job in some magic field as well, but she never explained that to me. She kind of kept it a secret though, being a witch, after she met me. She didn't know any other witches or wizards after she stopped working, so she stopped using magic. I have seen her do it many times, but since you were born she really hasn't."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"We just decided not to. There wasn't much of a chance that you would turn out to be a magic as well, so we thought you'd be better off if we never told you..." his father replied. "I'm sorry."

"Oh…" Phil looked away. Why wouldn't his parents tell him something so important like this? "So what does all of this have to do with that man that attacked you?"

"He was a wizard. A dark wizard I assume. You see there are different kinds of witches and wizards. Some care profoundly of the purity of witches and wizards, and others don't. That man that attacked wanted something from your mother. I wish I knew what…" his father explained. "I had just come down the stairs when I saw him come through the door. She was in the next room, when she heard it, but she had gotten up… She didn't have the change to scream. He was gone as quickly as he had come…"

Phil felt horrible. Was his mother okay? Where was she?

Phil looked at his father with a very worried expression on his face. He spread out his arms, and leaned over to hug him. They embraced for a few seconds, and then Phil turned away. It was a lot for him to take. He was still too young to predict how this might turn out. His mother lie dying on some other floor being helped by these magic doctors, who he knew nothing about.

"Where is she?" Phil turned back, questioning his father once again.

The waiting room was on the ground floor of the entire hospital. It was a large open area with many old wooden chairs, some empty, and some with tired witches or wizards staring blankly through the air. A guide on the edge of the room gave a detailed list of all the wards and treatment areas, and what floor they were on. Phil hadn't seen much of the building other than the waiting room, for he was ushered straight inside as soon as he arrived, by his father. His mother had been brought straight to a healer, who seemed to wear lime green robes, with a peculiar bone and wand crossed patch.

The scene had been too hectic to take in, when Phil arrived, especially when the day was reaching the late hours of the night, and the fact that his mother was apparently in a horrible condition.

"Why don't we check where she was put. They should have her settled by now." said Phil's father, as he quickly stood up, eager to see his wife.

Standing up, Phil took the educated guess that this place was not new to his father. He knew his way around. They walked along a row of chairs, and came to the desk at the end. A corpulent old witch sat in a tall chair, on the other side of the desk.

"May I help you?" the women asked in a scratchy voice.

"Yes, um, I was told to wait here for news of my wife being moved into one of the wards. Do you know if they have they given her a room yet?" Mr. Ellis asked.

"What is her name?"

"Catherine Ellis."

"Oh, yes, she was put in the Jonathon Materine Ward on the fourth floor only about a half an hour ago. It's the third door on the left."

"Thank you."

Phil followed his father as he turned and walked toward the exit of the waiting room. As they exited the room, they came into what seemed like a large open reception area. Phil had passed through from the other side a few hours ago, when he arrived in the St. Mungo's fireplace.

His father led him through a set of double doors to the left, and they headed through a narrow corridor, which ended at a flight of stairs. The first floor was the "Creature-Induced Injuries", as stated the corridor sign on the side of the stairs. They turned to the next flight, a few steps from the top of the first, and walked quickly up to the second third then fourth floors. Upon reaching the fourth floor, Phil followed his father down the corridor. It led them to the third door on the left, which bore the words "Jonathon Materine Ward: Long Term Spell Damage".

Inside was a small narrow room, with three windows; It was very dark. There lay three recovering witches and wizards in parallel white beds. Two Healers roamed the room, checking on each of the patients, clipboards in hand. Chairs were scattered around the room. Phil's mother was lying in the first bed, closest to the door. The two approached her side slowly, and sat themselves in two of the chairs nearby. One of the two Healers in the room approached the two. He was a tall man, with long brown hair, wearing the lime green robes sported by the Healers.

"Relatives?" the man asked in a depressed sort of tone.

"Yes…" Mr. Ellis replied, heavy hearted. "She's my wife."

"I think I'll need a minute to talk with you then. My name is Thomas Porden, and I am the head Healer of this ward. If you could follow me out into the hall, I can give you the insights on your wife's condition." Thomas said, as he turned for the doorway.

Phil and his father both stood up.

He turned back. "I'm sorry son, but you'll have to excuse your father for a minute. You can wait right here." Porden said. Mr. Ellis turned to Phil, giving him a sorry look. He then followed Porden out into the corridor.

Phil sat back into his chair. It suddenly occurred to him that his mother lie almost lifeless, with her blue eyes wide open. They stared blankly at the ceiling. Her long brown hair was spread about her pillow, in a most messy fashion. the white sheets were up to her shoulders, and her arms were tightly tucked inside the covers.

Phil just sat. He looked at his mother, wondering if she was awake. He knew she wasn't. She must be in a coma. Or something like it.

There were three windows on the opposite wall from where Phil sat. The moon hung in the sky, giving off little light. there were a few candles lit here and there along the walls of the ward. It gave him a very eerie feeling. It seemed surreal.

How could someone he thought he knew so well turn out to be someone, or something completely different. How could his mother be a witch? Did that mean that she _was _entirely different from him? No. He has her eyes. He has her hair. So many years the same, never changing what he thought of her. But that could all be coming to an end. To a lifeless end.

Phil thought of all the years they had spent together. He and his mother and father. They were all he had. And they are still all he has. A tear rolled down Phil's cheek. He outstretched his hand, and rested it on his mother's. It was cold.

A minute came and went. Mr. Ellis and Thomas Porden came back through the door. Phil's father came back to where he sat. Phil stood up. In the darkness, Phil could just make out his fathers scrunched face. He had been crying too. Phil hugged him once more.

He didn't have to tell him what it was. He already knew. She was going to die. And judging by the way his father acted, she wasn't going to die soon. But she would die.


	3. Chapter 2: The First Letter

Chapter 2: The First Letter

August was coming to quick close, and the summer was nearing an end. Phil had been spending his days at home, with his father, only going out to eat dinner, or to do a little bit of walking to think. They would visit his mother every day, whenever they had the chance. She still could only lay back and stare up at the ceiling in the lifeless way.

Phil's father had a job, however, as a reporter for the South Londing Newspaper, which meant that he would be away most days, at least until the evening. This left Phil to himself to think, or to walk, or to even venture a trip to St. Mungo's. But the worst part about spending his days alone was his worry that he would hear the news of his mother. That she died in her sleep, or fell horribly ill, and they had to stop treatments. That was the one thing that worried Phil too much.

As August 31st hit, Phil was wasting his day sitting in his lounge chair, watching TV, as most of his days were spent. His father was at work, but it was nearing six o' clock, which meant he would be home soon. He was watching an infomercial advertising some cooking product, and he had the window next to wide open, to let the cool breeze in. He couldn't remember a more boring time. As the infomercial progressed to the special deal offer, Phil heard a strange noise from outside. He quickly turned to the window, when suddenly, a bird flopped through, and landed head first onto the ground. It was quite obviously some kind of owl. It took Phil a second register what had just happened.

Phil jumped quickly out his seat, and carefully edged closer to the bird, hoping he could pick it up while it still sat confused on the floor. As he came closer, however, he saw that the bird had a letter tied to its leg. The bird was squirming, so he couldn't quite see what the letter looked like.

"Strange……." Phil muttered as he came within grabbing distance of the owl.

It suddenly leaped onto its feet, and whirled around to face Phil.

Something about the owl seemed very odd. Almost as if it knew what it were doing. Perhaps this bird did not just fly into the window, but it was looking for him. That was insane. Of course it wasn't looking for him.

Phil shook his hands in the owls direction. "Shoo!" he shouted loudly. "Shoo!" The bird made no move. It stood still, just looking at Phil, waiting. It then silently raised its leg with the letter, slowly, almost in an annoyed fashion. Phil realized the letter strapped onto its leg might be for him. Why would a bird be delivering him a message?

Phil decided, as long as the bird didn't already lung and attack him, and gouge out his eyes, that it probably wouldn't be planning on it. He slowly bent over the bird, and reached out his arm. The bird didn't move. He came a little closer. Still, the owl stayed still. He then went for it.

He grabbed the corner of the envelope, and slowly took hold of the small string holding it on its leg. Untying it, he carefully backed away, letter in hand. The owl suddenly jumped up, and flew quickly out of the window, gone as fast as it had come.

Phil turned the letter around. He stood up as he read the front of the envelope:

"**To Mr. P. Ellis**

Living Room chair

5. East Farthing Drive

South Londing

London, ENGLAND"

"What?" Phil was confused. Who would know where he lived? And how would they know he was just sitting in his chair?

Then he remembered. His mother is a witch. It must be…about her. He was afraid to open the letter. What if it told him that she had died? He didn't want to open it. But why would it be addressed directly to him? Phil walked back over to the chair, and sat down.

He turned the letter around again, and found the seal. It was a small crest, with the word "Hogwarts" pressed across it. This made Phil even more confused. If it wasn't St. Mungo's, then who was it? Hogwarts? What was Hogwarts?

No. Not for him to open now. His father should open it.

Phil suddenly had an image of his mother. When he was young. He was playing in their back yard, as she sat by the door and watched. All he remembered was her smile. She was smiling. It was different to see her smile. Not only did she not smile now, but she never used to smile. At least in front of Phil. He never knew why though. She always seemed unhappy.

Now that Phil thought of it, His father never seemed too happy either. They never seemed to talk, but Phil never seemed to notice. Phil stepped over to the table near the fireplace. He set down the letter.

He needed to see his mother again. Something didn't feel right. He knew he should see her today, and maybe try to clear up a little of the fog surrounding what happened to her. Maybe the healer Thomas Porden would have more information or insights.

Phil found a piece of note paper on the counter in the kitchen, and grabbed a pen nearby.

Quickly, he scrawled a message to his father:

"**Off to see mum. Be back soon.**

Phil."

He set it near cupboard, and picked up the bowl of magic powder sitting near the door. He didn't know much about the stuff, except how to use it. He wondered how his father knew how to use it, for he didn't seem to be magical in any way. Well, for that matter, neither did his mother. Why were they so quiet about her being a witch? Why didn't they tell him? Is that why they never talked? Did they have something to keep from him besides her being a witch? He knew it had something to do with their silence. He didn't know quite what though.

Phil approached the fireplace in the living room, and silently started a small fire. He had already traveled by the green fire six times now. Each time was to see his mother. This time was for her as well.

Phil arrived in the room behind the open entrance to St. Mungo's, where the fireplaces were kept, for those traveling by magic fire. Phil knew there must be a real name for this kind of travel, but he couldn't even venture the slightest guess as to what it was.

He made his way across the open hall, and came to the front desk.

"Back again are we? She is still in the Jonathon Materine Ward. You know where it is." the crinkled old witch said, just as Phil approached.

"Um, thanks." Phil replied, quickly walking away.

Up the four flights of stairs, and down the corridor, Phil came to the Materine Ward. Quietly he entered through the small door. As he walked through, he saw his mother clearly in her bed closest to the door. Thomas Porden was walking around the room, when he saw Phil. He came, over with a slight smile on his face.

Phil sat in on the chairs next to his mother. Porden came and sat next to him.

"Phil, I've got a little bit of good news for you." Thomas said, looking at Mrs. Ellis. Phil turned to face him, keeping quite silent. "Phil, you're mother spoke last night. This means that she is on the long road to recovery. We are still trying to determine what curse was used on her however."

"Curse?" Phil was suddenly confused. "I know that witches and wizards are able to do magic…but curses?"

"Oh, right, um, Phil, a curse is a kind of spell, that is cast to have a very long term effect. Sometimes a permanent effect. But your mother is quite strong, because whatever spell was cast, it seems she was able to avoid most of the damage, and she is still fighting to recover."

"Wait, so she spoke last night? Does that mean she really is getting better?"

"We think. Its hard to tell, but we think she may have been hit by some form of the…killing curse…"

"…Killing curse? So that man tried to _kill_ her?…" Phil looked down at the floor.

"Maybe I shouldn't have told you this…" Porden replied.

"No, I think I needed to know." Phil said quietly.

"I'll…give you a minute…" Thomas Porden stood up, and walked quietly toward another patient. Porden was obviously a little older than the other healers. He had a few graying hairs, and a wrinkle or two, which caused Phil to guess his age around forty or fifty. He stood quite tall, and had a longish brown hair. His most memorable feature however was his bright green eyes. He obviously cared a lot about Phil's mother, for he was spending so much time helping Phil and his father.

Phil then turned back to his mother, the reason he was there.

Laying there, just as lifeless as before, staring blankly at the wall now, Phil's mother looked quite hopeless. Something was so sad about the scene, even though his mother almost seemed to have a faint smile across her frozen face. She seemed almost peaceful.

"Mum?" Phil whispered. Maybe she would speak again. "Mum? Can you hear me?"

There was no reply. She lay just as lifeless as ever. This was the last time he would ever see her real face again.

* * *

When Phil arrived home, he found his father sitting in the lounge chair, watching some srange show. Phil stepped across the room to face him.

"Oh you're back!" Phil's father jumped up and clicked off the television. "How is she doing?"

"Mr. Porden said that she was talking last night. I think she's getting better!" Phil smiled for the first time in a few days.

"What? That's wonderful news!" Mr. Ellis smiled as well, for the first time in a few days. "I wish I could go see her, but I think visiting hours end at eight o' clock… Hey, Phil, why don't we celebrate? We could go out to eat somewhere nice!"

"Eat?" Phil was not the least bit hungry. "Um… I'm really not that hungry… But if you want to, I'll go with you."

"Oh, no, if you don't want to, its fine, I'll make something here." Phil's father seemed happy.

The dark brown hair hanging slightly from his father head, hung forward into his face. His brown eyes lit up from the very words 'she was talking last night'. Phil was happy to see him happy. And he was happy to know his mother was recovering.

Nothing could dampen his spirits right now. Phil walked over to the small table, where he had set the bowl of magic powder. He then noticed the letter. Atop the brown end table sat his letter from Hogwarts. He thought suddenly, tat maybe this would be the time he should ask his father about it.

The bright blue kitchen was just off of the living room. Phil walked in and sat at one of the tall chairs that were placed in front of the marble countertop. He put the letter on the table, as he slid he magic powder, which seemed so much lighter than the first time he had picked it up, over to the wall. His father was at the stove. He was attempting to light it up, so he could cook up some leftovers of chicken and rice. Phil looked up at him, while he bent low to grab a pot from under the counter.

"Hey dad, I got a letter today. I was wondering if you could explain it to me." Phil said, picking up the letter to look at it a little closer.

"A letter?" Phil's father asked while he put the chicken in the pot, then placed it on the stove. "Whose it from?"

"Um, Hogwarts? I think that's it…" Phil said, trying to pronounce the strange word.

His fathers reaction was a bit unexpected. He suddenly flinched, knocking the pot to the ground, and spilling the chicken pieces across the floor.

_"Howgarts?" _Phil's father turned quickly to him. "Um, can I see that?"

"Yeah." He handed the unopened letter over to him. "What's wrong?"

"Um, oh, nothing. I, uh, might need a minute to read this, okay? Why don't you clean up this chicken, and I'll take a look."

"Okay…" Phil said, disappointed. What was wrong? What was the letter? Why did his father flinch?

Phil stepped over to the fallen chicken, and picked up the warm pot. His father quickly stepped out of the room, into the living room, ripping the letter open.

Phil put the chicken in the sink, and stepped over to the door to the living room. He peeked inside, just enough to see his father reading hastily through the letter.

"Shit… Fuck… This is bad…" He could just barely hear him say. He was obviously not too happy about something. What could be wrong? He decided he shouldn't bother his dad, especially if he was this aggravated.

He sat himself back into one of the kitchen chairs, just as his father came back in.

He was silent. He didn't have the letter with him either.

"Hey, dad?"

"What?"

"Um, what was in that letter?" Phil asked cautiously.

"Oh, just a bunch of gibberish, nothing to worry about."

"…Okay…" Phil said quietly. "Can I see it though?"

"No, I already threw it away."

They didn't talk for the rest of the night.


	4. Chapter 3: Briggs and the Feline

Chapter 3: Briggs and the Feline

The morning felt as if it had come quite quickly. Phil opened his eyes suddenly. He heard a noise, and it sounded much like an owl. The morning sun was shining through his window, and he was just able to see, on the tree just outside, three owls perched on one large limb. Each of the owls was looking in the window.

"What? Why are there owls outside my… Oh, yeah…" Phil, still dazed, remembered how the owl yesterday had delivered a letter. He somehow knew these owls had new letters for him.

Phil suddenly had the same feeling as he did yesterday. The owls might have brought a message from St. Mungo's… His mother might have died…

Phil slowly rolled out of bed, and stepped lightly over to his window. Unlatching, and pulling it open, the owls quickly jumped off their perch, and flew straight inside. Each dropped a letter on the floor, generally in the same spot, then turned and flew straight out again, each being quite obviously tired and aggravated. Strangely however, one of the owls didn't leave. Once it had gotten out of the window, it sat back on the tree, waiting, as it stared in at Phil.

Phil closed and latched his window, then turned to the letters. Each was the same size and shape. He knew they all must be from Hogwarts. He stepped to them, and bent over to pick them up. He was right, each one was addressed to: "**To Mr. P. Ellis, **Bedroom Atop the Stairs, 5. East Farthing Drive, South Londing, London, ENGLAND".

This time he wouldn't tell his father of the letters. Stashing two of them under his pillow, he jumped onto his bed, and quickly tore open the third. Pulling out a short piece of parchment, and a longer piece beneath it, Phil began to read.

> "HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
> 
> Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
> 
> (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
> 
> Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)
> 
> Dear Mr. Ellis,
> 
> We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
> 
> Term begins September 1. We await your owl as soon as possible, for the deadline has come and gone. When the owl has been received, you will be allowed to board the Hogwarts Express.
> 
> Yours sincerely,
> 
> Minerva McGonagall
> 
> Deputy Headmistress."

Phil was shocked. He was appalled to learn it. Phillip Ellis, the most boringly normal person alive, was a wizard. He was stunned for the longest time, until he realized it. His mother and father were keeping something from him, and that something could have been that he was a wizard. He would be attending Hogwarts? And the list of books and supplies were to learn magic? He couldn't believe it. He was so happy.

Phil jumped off the bed, and dashed for the door. He would tell his father straight away! Suddenly he stopped. He remembered how his father reacted to the same letter last night. If he told his father, he could get very mad. Phil wasn't sure what to do. He walked over to his desk, and set the letter down on it.

What did this mean now? What was he going to do, if he couldn't tell his father? How would he get to Hogwarts? This was going to be hard.

First, Phil knew he must write the letter to Hogwarts, to tell them that he received their letter, and that he would try his best to attend. But then if he needed to send them an "owl" was that like sending a letter with an owl, like the ones he had received? He assumed so. But where would he find an owl?

Then he saw the owl that was still perched outside of his window.

"Of course!" Phil said, as he ran over, and opened the window. The bird flew in, knowing that Phil was going to send a letter with him. "That was why you waited, wasn't it? Smart bird, you are."

Phil did his best to search for any kind of paper to write on. He found an old notebook, that was tucked away inside of his desk, and pulled it out. Ripping out a piece of paper, Phil grabbed a pen off of his desk.

Writing the most formal and thankful letter he could, he quickly scrawled the letter to Hogwarts.

Minutes later, he attached the letter to the owl's foot, with a small piece of string. Hopping up to the window, the bird turned back at Phil.

"Shoo! Go!" Phil waved his arms at the bird, but it didn't move, it just sat, looking at him. "Go! What are waiting for!" Phil realized then that the bird _was _waiting for something, but for what, he didn't know.

Phil grabbed the notebook he left out, and opened the drawer to the desk, to put it away, when suddenly he realized that he should write another letter. That would be the way he would get to Hogwarts! It was simple! He would just write a letter asking for help! It was a good idea, so Phil opened the notebook, and ripped out another page.

Picking up his pen, Phil began to write a letter to Thomas Porden.

"Dear Mr. Porden,

> This is Phil Ellis. I know that this may seem out of the blue, but you are the only wizard I really know. I was wondering if you could take me to buy supplies for school at Hogwarts. I have just been accepted, and today is the beginning of the first term. So if you have any time at all, you wouldn't mind helping me out, would you? Thank you,
> 
> Phil."

He folded the page up, and on the back side, he wrote to his best knowledge, the location Porden would be at St. Mungo's. He stood up, and stepped over to the owl. He quickly tied the letter around its leg, and the bird immediately flew off, out of the window.

Phil was relived that the bird had stayed. It really must have been one smart owl.

He quickly got dressed, and walked out of the door, and down the stairs at the end of the hall. He could tell this was going to be a long day ahead of him.

Phil went into the kitchen, to see what he could find to eat, when he looked up at the clock. It read 7:21 A.M. It was strange that he was up so early. He never usually got up before his father left for work.

Just then, his father came down the stairs. So began the brief awkward silence between the two. Phil wasn't thinking of telling his father that he was accepted into Hogwarts, because he already knew. Phil was concentrating on not looking suspicious. He found some corn flakes in the cupboard, and poured himself a large bowl.

Suddenly, Phil realized something. His father wouldn't see him for a long time, if he up and left for Hogwarts. That's when he decided to tell him. He turned to his father, after sitting down in a chair at the counter. His father was straightening his tie in a nearby mirror. Phil thought of how he should start what he had to say.

"Um, dad?"

"Yeah?" said his father, still fixing his suit, not turning to look.

"You know that letter that you read last night?"

His father stopped, and looked at Phil.

"Yeah. I know. What about it?"

"Well, I got, um, three of them this morning, and, I uh, read it." Phil was waiting for his father to start getting angry. But why was it his business to not tell Phil he was a wizard? Why did he need to hide it?

"Phil. I am sorry." Mr. Ellis' expression never changed. He didn't frown or yell or get mad at all. "I am sorry I didn't tell you. Your mother and I never imagined that you would turn out to be a wizard. We found out, um, about a month ago, when your first letter arrived."

"Why didn't you tell me then? Why is it such a big secret?" Phil said, starting to get angry himself.

"Phil, there is so much that I wish I could tell you, but I don't think you should know yet. We didn't expect you to be a wizard, so we thought it was fine, until we discovered you were. Now everything is different. I thought maybe that if I didn't tell you, and we lasted just one more day, you wouldn't have to go to that school. I wish I could tell you the rest, but you are too young to be troubled by it…"

"What? Dad, why can't you tell me? Why don't you want me to go to that school?"

"Phil, it's very complicated. Someday I'll tell you when you need to know, but right now, I would just ask that you please do not go to that school." Phil's father said.

"It's too late. I've already decided to go. If you can't tell me why I shouldn't go, then I am going. I'm sorry. I want to do this." Phil looked down at his cereal. "I wrote a letter to Thomas Porden, and I asked him to come get me. I don't know him very well, but he's going to take me to get my supplies, and send me off to Hogwarts."

"Phil. You have to be sure about this. There is a lot you are getting yourself into now. Be sure you will be ready, because someday you'll learn, and all this is going to become much, much harder for you. But I think you may be too young to understand." Mr. Ellis explained.

"I want to do this, dad." Phil replied.

"I'm running late. But Phil. I won't be seeing you for a long time if you go. If you want, you can come home for the holidays. I'll still be here." Phil's father stepped over to Phil. He wrapped his arms around him and gave him a hug. "I'll miss you Phil."

"I'll miss you too." Phil suddenly felt bad for his father. He would be leaving him all by himself, to worry about his mom. Suddenly, the words 'I'll still be here' didn't sit right with Phil. He knew his mother was going to die, but, for his father to say that made it a reality.

His father stepped back. "You know Phil, for an eleven year old, you are very mature. Goodbye."

He turned, and walked out of the door. He was already fifteen minutes late for work.

Phil sat, wondering how sad his father might be now. Phil barely ate the rest of his cereal, yet he still sat in the chair, looking down at it. It was now 7:30. He was about to get up, and go take a shower, when suddenly, there was a knock at the front door.

Phil wondered who it could be as he got out of the chair, and walked out to the front hall. Through the window in the door, Phil could just see the figure of a tall man with brown hair.

He stepped to the door, and opened it. Thomas Porden stood on his porch, with a large grin across his face.

"We have to hurry, your train leaves at eleven o' clock." he said.

"Oh, wow, _I_ better hurry! Come in! I'll get dressed, and then we'll go!" Phil turned and ran up the stairs and down the hall to his room.

Porden stood in the front hall waiting for Phil to get ready. As he looked around the house, he took in everything with great detail. He never told Phil, but he knew his mother in the past. He wasn't planning on telling him soon either, for he knew it would upset him.

"Phil! You better pack your things! I don't think we'll have time to come back!" Porden yelled up the stairs.

"Right!" Phil called back down.

Minutes later, Phil came hustling down the stairs with a large bag of clothes. He was now wearing a light blue sweater, with black pants, having changed out of his pajamas.

"Phil, do you have a trunk by chance?" Porden asked, eyeing the bag. "There is going to be lot of supplies to bring."

"Uh, my mum has one, but I think its up in her closet. Wait here, I'll get it." Phil answered, as he set down his bag.

"Wait, Phil, do you have a fireplace?" Porden quickly asked, starting to feel a little rushed.

"Yeah, in the living room." Phil said, as he ran up the stairs.

"Good, that'll be a lot faster…" Porden said to himself.

Phil reached his parents bedroom, and he made for the closet. He quickly opened it, and found the trunk, hidden in the back. It was his mothers, but he had only really seen it in the closet. She never seemed to use it. He pulled at it, and it came out easily. Carefully, Phil dragged it out of the room, and down the hall. As brought the trunk down the stairs, he noticed that Porden was in the living room. He had already moved his bag.

Phil pulled it as best he could off of the stairs, and into the living room. Mr. Porden had already started a fire in the fireplace. Phil stepped over to the side of him, and put down the trunk. Quickly he unlatched the small locks, and swung it open. As he leaned over to grab his bag, to empty the few clothes into the trunk, he noticed something. Inside the trunk sat a large sack. It was about the size of a grapefruit. Phil grabbed, it and opened it up. Inside was a beautiful pile of silver and gold coins.

"What in the world are these?" asked Phil.

Porden turned to look. "Ah, I was about to ask if you had any. That's wizarding money, Phil, it's the stuff we'll be using to buy your supplies. Lucky find, if you ask me. Looks to be pretty full too!" he chuckled then turned back to the fire.

Phil put the sack of coins into his pocket and the bag of clothes into the trunk, to make it half full.

"Ready?" Porden asked.

"Are we traveling by magic fire?" Phil asked, looking up.

"You mean floo powder? Well, yes we are, heh." Porden chuckled again.

"Oh, I've got some in the kitchen if you---"

"No, I have some here, don't worry." Porden interrupted.

Phil stood up, and pulled the trunk closer to him. He brought it over to the front of the fireplace.

"Where to?" he asked.

"Diagon Alley, my friend." Porden said, smiling once more.

He pulled a small bottle of floo powder out of his pocket. He threw a handful of it into the fire, and it burst into a green fire. "After you, he said to Phil."

Phil turned to Porden. "Mr. Porden? Thank you. I barely even know you, but you proved to be a true friend." He looked away and stepped into the fire. Pulling the trunk in behind him, he looked briefly at Porden, who was smiling widely.

"Phil, just wait for me, once you get there. Okay?" Porden said.

Phil nodded, then clearly said, "_Diagon Alley!"._

He was gone in a large green flash.

It was the same _WOOSH_-ing feeling he got every time he traveled by the Floo Network. Almost two minutes later, Phil shot out from a fireplace outside, in an open cobble stone road. The fireplace was connected to a building, and a there was a brick wall to his left.

A few seconds later, Porden shot out of the fireplace, just missing Phil's leg.

"It's eight o' clock! We better be quick!" Porden exclaimed, as he stood himself up, brushing loads of soot off of his cloak. "Do you have a wand yet, Phil?"

"A wand? You mean like a magic wand?"

"Perhaps you don't…" Porden reached into the folds of his cloak, and pulled out a sleek black wand. "This is the entrance to Diagon Alley, Phil. Behind us is the Leaky Cauldron, that's a mighty good place to stay if you ever need somewhere. I'll show you how to open the door…"

Porden turned to the brick wall. He raised his wand, and tapped a series of five bricks. They seemed to be the most randomly chosen ones, but obviously Porden knew what he was doing, for the brick wall began to move. It slowly pulled away to either side, brick by brick.

The wall gave way to a large busy scene, of hundreds of witches and wizards bustling about, entering and exiting shops, and generally speaking quite loudly. They swiftly stepped past the threshold, and to the side of the crowd, against the side of a shop.

"Phil, we'll have to split up, if we ever hope to make it to the train on time. If you need help, just ask any of the witches or wizards you see, they are generally quite kind." Porden winked at Phil. "Now, let me see that list of yours."

Phil reached into his pocket, and pulled out the folded list. Handing it to Porden, he looked about to take in the sights. There were old witches and wizards bringing young children through the crowd, and there were children, that looked about Phil's age running around the sides of the cobblestone road, dashing to the different stores.

"Alright. I'll handle your books, there don't seem to be _too_ many. And I'll also take care of your cauldron, phials, telescope and brass scales; those should all be at Malidron's. All that leaves you with your uniform, and your wand. Like I say, if you need any help, just ask anyone." He handed Phil the list. Porden then quickly turned away, so he could get started on his list, but he then turned back to Phil. "Oh, and meet me _right here_, no later than _nine-thirty_. Good luck." And he was gone.

Phil looked down at the list.

"A wand…" Phil said to himself. "I think I'll start with that. He slid his trunk under a nearby table, hidden beneath a table cloth.

Phil stepped away from the spot, and found an open area he was able to move through. This was the most amazing place he had ever seen. There were so many strange things to see, it hard for him to concentrate on his task.

As he stepped across the thick stone, he passed an interesting shop. It was the Magical Menagerie. He tried his best to see through the window, as he walked on. He could see a few cages near the front, but he couldn't make out much more. He decided he would try to come back to it, before he left.

He began walking faster, until he realized he had absolutely no clue where he go to find a wand. The large crowds made it even more difficult to see the shop signs, much less the any part of the road. He stopped, and began to scope the area, when suddenly, someone smashed into him from behind. Phil fell to the ground, in a painful heap.

"Ow! Watch it! Don't stop right in the road!" said a voice, obviously coming from the body sprawled out on top of Phil. It was a boy, who looked around Phil's age. The boy rolled over, off of Phil, and bent down to help him up.

"Thanks. And sorry, I was just stopped to look for something." Phil's face reddened slightly, as he began to slowly walk toward the side of the small group being held up behind them. He boy followed him to the side of the road, and then turned to Phil.

"You seem to be new here. You look a little out of place. Lost perhaps?" the boy asked.

"Um, well, yeah, I am new here, and yes, I am kinda lost. Not lost, but just haven't found anything." Phil replied, glancing away from the strange boy. The boy was about Phil's height, and had the same sort of scrawny features about him. His strange black hair, that shone dark brown in the light, was long enough to be twisted and mashed in every direction. His dark blue eyes were shining in the sunlight as well.

"What shop are you looking for? Maybe I can help. Almost done with my shopping. I only need my uniform, and I'll be off to the Hogwarts Express." the boy said. "Bit of a late shopper as well, eh?"

"I guess. Well, I am looking for a wand. Where could I buy one of those?" Phil asked, looking down at his list, then up at the street.

"Ah, Ollivander's. He'll fix you up with a wand right away. Follow me." the seemingly arrogant boy replied, leading the way, as Phil followed him down the street. "My name's Peregrine Briggs by the way." he said, turning his head back as they walked.

"My name's Phillip Ellis." Phil replied, watching his step, as they crossed a stack of cauldrons.

After about a minute of walking through the street, they came to a small shop on the corner of a building. Atop the door was a sign that read: 'Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.' The two boys entered the shabby shop, stepping across the thin threshold into the small dark room. Quietly they both approached the counter towards the back.

Suddenly a tall, thin, old looking wizard popped out from behind the rows of small boxes behind the counter.

"How may I help you boys today?" Mr. Ollivander asked.

"Well, I've already got my wand, but my friend here needs to buy his." Peregrine replied.

For a second, Phil was shocked that the boy would have called him his friend. He had never really had any friends growing up in South Londing, and to suddenly have made one in just minutes was new to him.

"And what is your name young man?" Ollivander asked Phil.

"Phillip Ellis."

"Ah, I see. Now, I'm going to have to take some measurements before I can give you the right wand." He pulled out a tape measure from behind the shelves, and dropped onto the counter.

The tape measure then slid off the table on its own, and began to measure Phil and many random places. It measure him from his shoulder to writs armpit to the floor, around his head, from his finger to his armpit, and few more seconds later, it flopped back onto the table all on its own.

Ollivander then turned to his boxes and began shifting through them. "Ah," He said, grabbing one under a pile on the left, and opened the box up, bringing it close to Phil. Phil picked it up out of the box, and held it awkwardly. "Willow and unicorn hair, eleven inches. Now, just give it a flick, and we'll see if its right for you…"

Phil raised it high, not quite knowing what he was doing. Peregrine slowly backed away, as not get hit by anything. Phil waved the wand through the air in no apparent direction, and slowly, out of the wand, pure white snow began to drift out towards the ground. Phil was amazed that he had just done his first bit of magic. But to everyone's surprise, as the snow fell onto the counter, and down to the floor, it burst suddenly into large blue flames.

Ollivander quickly pulled out his own wand, from a pocket inside of his robes, and shouted a strange incantation. Phil and Peregrine jumped back, as a blast of light came out of his wand. It struck the fire, and dissolved it quickly, before anything could be too badly burned.

"Not yours I'd wager," said Ollivander, laughing to himself, because Phil and Peregrine both had a look of horror across their faces. Handing the wand back to Mr. Ollivander, Phil looked at Peregrine. His face began to smile, but in a nervous way. Phil smiled to himself as well. A few seconds later, Ollivander handed Phil a new wand.

This time, as Phil touched the handle, it felt strangely warm and light in in his fingers. "Pine and dragon heartstring , fourteen inches, this may work better." Ollivander explained.

Phil brought the wand up just as high, and quickly threw his arm forward, swishing the wand quickly through the dusty air. A sudden burst of silvery blue light came shooting out of the wand. It lingered in the air, then slowly swirled away.

"Wonderful match! You're an easy customer it would seem! For this wand, that will be seven galleons." Phil wasn't sure what that meant. Ollivander grabbed Phil's wand and put it back in its box.

Was a galleon a piece of that wizarding money? Phil turned to Peregrine, as he pulled out his sack of coins. "Can you help me with these?" Phil asked. Peregrine smiled, and stepped over.

Opening the small pouch, he handed it to Peregrine.

Peregrine, searched through the coins, and pulled out seven gold pieces. "These are gold galleons Phillip, heh, just remember that." Peregrine smiled wider at Phil, and handed Ollivander the coins.

"Thank you your business young men." Ollivander said, as he turned back to his boxes.

Giving the sack of money back to Phil, they left the shop.

"I see that you're not in a wizarding family, are you? Are you a muggle born?" Peregrine asked, as they walked across the road. Phil was following Peregrine once more.

"Um, my mum's a witch, but my dad isn't. And what is a _muggle_?" Phil asked.

"Oh, a muggle is anyone who isn't a wizard or witch. Your dad would be a muggle then. I take it you were raised a muggle right?"

"Yeah, I was." said Phil looking away from Peregrine. "Where are we headed?" Phil asked.

"Well, I'm headed for Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Get me Hogwarts robes." he replied.

About half an hour later, the two boys left Madam Malkin's with a pile of robes and other Hogwarts uniform pieces.

"Ah, Phil, there's my mum, I've got go." He put out a hand, and Phil shook it. "Maybe I'll see you on the train. We'll have to hurry though, it's almost nine thirty! Train leaves at eleven!" Peregrine turned, and was gone.

Phil did his best to find his way back through the streets, and finally found a familiar sign. The Magical Menagerie. He did want to go in, and maybe see what he could. He only had a few minutes before he had to meet Porden, however, so had to be quick about it. He crossed a crowd of young witches, that were running the other direction, and stepped over to the shop.

Inside was a madhouse of cages, loud squeaks, screeching, flailing birds and animals, and a bustle of witches and wizards in the back corner. Phil looked around at the cages, and saw creatures he had never seen in his life. As he walked among the strange animals, all of which were jumping and acting like crazy baboons, he finally came to a cage which held a slender, quiet cat. It was all black, and had radiant green eyes. It sat up, in a silent pose, among all of the wild thrashing creatures. It lazily looked over at Phil, and stared at him.

Ten minutes later, he left the shop with a small kennel. He knew he had completely jumped to it, but it was what he needed. The black cat that was just trapped inside that crazy shop, was now trapped inside a moving cage, that was being held up by Phil, headed straight to where Porden was standing.

Phil looked across the clearing area, over at Porden, who had obviously been waiting for a few minutes. Porden had already pulled Phil's trunk out of its temporary hiding place, and smiling at Phil and his new cat.


End file.
